


Far from Home

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA V, Alternate Universe- GTA V, Fake AH Crew, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Pre-Fake AH Crew, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 11:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15581283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: Gavin finds an unexpected surprise while he’s working a job. A quick and simple in and out affair at some posh gala. Grab the files and make his way out without being caught in the act, and he’ll earn himself a lovely payday.So of course,of course, things go a little pear-shaped on him.





	Far from Home

Gavin finds an unexpected surprise while he’s working a job. A quick and simple in and out affair at some posh gala. Grab the files and make his way out without being caught in the act, and he’ll earn himself a lovely payday.

So of course, _of course_ , things go a little pear-shaped on him.

The whole night starts off promising.

Gavin in his smart little tuxedo, perfectly coiffed hair, and luxury sports car on loan from his employers to lend credence to his cover persona.

It works, too.

Has the guests who see him drive up in eyeing him with interest and the staff hired to work the gala treating him with a higher modicum of respect. Sets him apart from the stuffy old bastards in their gleaming limos and traditional ways borne of old money.

The gala’s hostess greets him warmly even though there’s not a speck of recognition in her eyes, a woman who trusts such things as guest lists to an assistant. Her only stipulation being that whoever receives an invitation be someone from the right social circle to win her all the power, money, and influence she so rightly deserves.

Gavin smiles at her as though they are old friends, busses her cheek and tells her she’s as beautiful as ever and that the gala itself is breathtaking. 

Ice sculptures in the flower gardens and gorgeous water fountains. A string quartet playing in the courtyard and softly blinking lights strung about to lend the whole affair a magical air. Fairy realm crossing into the mortal realm just this one night and its guests the few lucky enough to lay witness to such a grand event.

He dances with several people on his way to the room where the files are kept. A computer isolated from the network the rest of the mansion uses and difficult to access any other way. 

Impossible, really, given the level of security put in place to protect it. A fact that’s been proven time and time again as others with Gavin’s talent pool have failed to deliver. 

But with so many people wandering the grounds tonight, there’s a chance of success for someone careful enough, skilled enough.

Gavin makes a show of enjoying the gala. Trades small talk with people who seek him out as he works his way ever closer to those files he’s being paid a staggering amount of money to acquire. Flirts with tipsy heirs and heiresses alike. Kisses the hand of a beautiful redhead with cat-eye glasses and thanks her for the dance after she’d caught his hand and pulled him out to the dance floor when he as he tries to walk past.

Gleam in her eye and a challenge in her smile, and how could Gavin ever refuse such a beautiful woman’s simple request?

Especially when it gets him closer to that darkened staircase leading up to the second floor. A laugh and a stumble and some poor, unwitting model's drink spilled down his front and a member of the waitstaff who tells him there’s a bathroom he can use to clean up.

Nice and simple and going perfectly until it doesn’t.

Until Gavin’s curiosity gets the better of him as he counts doors against the memorized blueprints in his head. _One, two, three_ , and his lock picks get him inside the right room with startling ease.

Its the work of minutes to get the files he needs, and a little more effort wins him the bonus he was promised if he could get those as well. Hidden behind encryptions and eating up precious time that might cost him everything if he wasn’t skilled enough, careful enough.

It’s on his way out that he spies the fourth door in that long, dark hallway and the lock recently added to it.

Glaringly out of place with the Baroque styling the rest of the mansion favors with its flat gray metal and ugly about it.

There’s a countdown in the back of Gavin's mind tucked in beside the mansion’s blueprints and other bits of information he’d felt vital for this job, and it’s running down.

Security patrols and camera sweeps and there’s no time to indulge in curiosity, except -

_Why?_

Why put in a lock like that up here? Why does it look as though it was installed hastily, wood around it scratched and scraped and wounded looking. Why can’t he leave it alone as he moves closer to examine it, lock picks back in his hands before he realizes it and an open door in front of him.

“Bloody hell,” Gavin murmurs, once he’s inside because he has his answer.

There’s a figure slumped in a chair, hair lank and dirty hanging over their face and tired slant to their shoulders.

Tired, not defeated, he notes. Waiting, perhaps, for the right opportunity to come along, and it’s possible tonight it may be Gavin himself.

At the sound of his voice, the figure lifts their head and if Gavin was the sort given to such fancies, he’d say it was a look that would kill, if it could. 

Full of cold menace and simmering resentment, anger, and the promise of violence once they’re free from their binds. 

_Feral_ , Gavin thinks, remembering the strays he’s run across in this godforsaken city in the past. 

The figure’s gagged, lowest of low-tech with duct tape that looks days old and the skin around it torn and bloody, bruises dark on their – his – face. Face puffy and swollen from the beating(s) they’ve endured since he landed himself here who knows how long ago.

He looks a sight, and once he realizes Gavin isn’t one of the people who chained him up in this makeshift cell, a calculating light enters his eyes. 

The USB drive is a heavy weight in the hidden pocket of Gavin’s jacket, hidden away where it will go unnoticed if security decides he should be frisked at any point along the way. 

And still - 

Gavin sighs, because the man is still watching him (what else would he be doing?) and that countdown hasn't stoppedd. 

Soon, though. 

“Alright then,” Gavin says, and sets to work because there’s a small window growing ever smaller and work to be done still.

The man’s eyes narrow when he sees the knife in Gavin’s hands, and Gavin pauses because it’s the polite thing to do.

“This will go better if you hold still,” he says, and when he seems to understand, Gavin moves closer. 

The ropes are rough things, most likely pulled from the sheds and grounds that have bitten into the man’s skin where he’s tried to free himself. 

Broken skin and dried blood, and when Gavin cuts them loose he finds zip ties underneath. 

Thick, heavy plastic. Military grade, and they’ve been broken. Sawed through so they’re simply ugly bracelets pulled too-tight around the man’s wrists.

Gavin only has a moment to take it all in before the man surges to his feet, sudden movement unexpected as he turns and bears Gavin to the ground. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated from however many hours he’s been tied to that chair, but the unexpectedness is just enough.

Enough for him to pin Gavin, use his weight against him, forearm against Gavin’s throat as he hovers over him, eyes locked with Gavin’s.

It’s the fact that he stops there, doesn’t make a move past immobilizing Gavin that has Gavin hesitate, knife still held tightly in his outstretched hand, arm held in place by the man’s knee through design or happy coincidence Gavin isn’t certain.

“Rude of you,” Gavin wheezes, when the man presses down, just enough to serve as a warning. “Not my fault you bollocksed things up to get caught like this.”

A mistake on his part, perhaps, but it has the man eyeing him thoughtfully.

“Security patrol will be through this wing in less than five minutes,” Gavin says, time ticking down second by second by second. “If you don’t want to end up back in that chair you should let me up.”

The man cocks his head. Presses down hard before easing up, something dark sliding through his eyes as the corner of his mouth pulls up into a twisted smirk, silent, _and why would I do that?_ clear in every line of him.

“Because you idiot,” Gavin manages, coughs when he gets another painful warning. “You’re not going to get out of here without my help.”

Not tonight anyway, and certainly not alive with the shape the man’s in.

For a long moment Gavin thinks the man’s going to get them both caught, _killed_ , but he snorts. 

Climbs off Gavin and plucks the knife out of his hand as he stands up, moves a few steps back to allow him to get to his feet, cautious, slow, in case the man’s a complete lunatic.

Which he very clearly is as he reaches up and pulls the duct tape free, furrow between his eyes the only sign of discomfort as it comes away from his face.

“God’s sake,” Gavin mutters, certain he’s made a terrible mistake as the lunatic gestures to the door with the knife as he lets the tape fall from his hand.

“After you,” he says, a dry croak that only adds to the unhinged maniac image he seem intent on cultivating.

Gavin sidesteps him, makes sure to keep out of arm’s length as he does. (Arm plus knife, unless the man happens to know how to throw one, in which case - )

They slip past the security patrol with seconds to spare. Holding their breaths until the pair decked out in heavy armor and carrying weapons better fit for a war zone rather than a posh mansion in the hills above Los Santos passes them by.

Things only get harder from there. Security cameras, criss-crossing security guard patrols and gala staff that bleed into gala guests. 

“Hard to explain your ensemble,” Gavin murmurs, when the man shoots him a look as Gavin puts a hand on his chest to press him back into an alcove as a member of the kitchen staff hurries past. “It’s a black tie affair.”

The lunatic _growls_ , and Gavin pulls his hand away when he realizes he can feel rather than hear it, and that’s an odd thing to think.

“Just a bit longer,” he says, which isn’t quite a lie, just - 

Something to say, really, and then they’re treading through narrow service corridors to avoid being seen. Ducking back behind storage crates and wheeled carts, and a baker’s cooling rack pushed up against a wall when they almost bump into someone coming back from their smoke break.

“I wouldn’t,” Gavin hisses, when the staff member stops a few feet away patting themselves down like they’ve forgotten something.

They’re so close to the servant’s entrance. Tucked behind the mansion and a good spot to make their exit where he can either circle around and go the valet service station to retrieve his car from them and drive through the main gates, or take advantage of a slight (very slight) gap in security. Jut enough to allow Gavin the chance to hop the walls around the grounds and make it to the secondary vehicle he procured as part of a contingency plan.

The lunatic turns his head ever so slowly to look at Gavin, and perhaps if Gavin hadn't happened upon him all trussed up the way he’d been, it would carry more weight with him.

As it is - 

“Look,” Gavin says, jerking his chin to where the poor woman makes a noise of triumph as she pulls something out of one of her pocket and continues on her way. “No need to do anything that might draw unnecessary attention. Bit of patience, that’s all.”

 _And luck_ , he thinks, but doesn’t say because that’s key as well, but wouldn’t exactly bolster his point.

The lunatic snorts, amusement to it.

“This time, sure.”

No guarantee it would have worked the next time or the one after that, and honestly it’s part of what makes Gavin’s line of work so appealing to him. That added bit of risk that can make or break him and oh, how lucky he’s been up until now.

“Fair play,” he says, and when he’s sure the way is clear makes his way to the servant’s entrance with the lunatic close on his heels.

For someone as big as he is, he manages to move quietly, quickly. No unnecessary noise as he follows Gavin’s lead. 

And even that feels less like he’s content to do so as much as he’s watching Gavin, taking his measure and it’s damned unnerving, isn’t it. Has Gavin regretting losing his knife to the man, worried it might end up in his back before things are said and done.

Once they’re outside things turn a less certain. Gavin tapping his fingers against his leg as they find a convenient patch of shadows to take cover.

“We have two choices,” he says, aims for a cheery, pleasant tone of voice. “There’s a car hidden along the service road half a mile to the west.”

The lunatic cocks his head, waiting for the second option. 

“Or I can get my car back from the valet service.”

The tricky part here is that in doing so, he’ll have to leave the damn lunatic here to accomplish that bit and swing back around to pick him up, and - 

“Okay.”

\- Gavin doubts the man would be so trusting after knowing each other for so short a time.

Gavin blinks, not sure he’s heard right, and when he looks up at the lunatic, the man is smiling slightly.

“The way I see it,” he says. “Is that you wouldn’t have bothered getting me this far if you were going to fuck me over at the last minute.”

His smile goes sharp, dangerous as he leans in and Gavin presses himself against the wall at his back.

“And if you _do_ try to fuck me over, I stand a better chance of getting out of here to get my revenge for that another day. Win-win either way.”

That’s a rather pragmatic way to look at things, honestly.

“True,” Gavin says, and stares at the man.

Bright blue eyes and there’s something about the smirk on his face that Gavin can’t quite look way from and really, _really_ , now is not the time for this.

“Valet service, then?” 

“Valet service.”

Gavin nods, and moves to slip past the lunatic only to be brought up short when the lunatic grabs him by the arm.

“I’ll find you,” he says, and it sounds like a promise rather than a threat as he watches the guards at the end of the driveway and Gavin keeps his eyes on the valets chatting to each other just a few yards away. “If you fuck me over, I’ll find you.”

“Sounds lovely,” Gavin says, and pries his fingers off his arm one by one and continues on his way, rolling his shoulders to settle his tuxedo jacket and running a hand through his hair to make himself presentable.

There are a few guests loitering nearby, tipsy and giddy with it as they regale each other with their recent exploits and oblivious to anything else around them.

He angles his approach and hops a small hedge to make it appear as though he’s come from the gala and hasn’t at all been up to anything illegal. Smiles just so at the valet and hands over the ticket stub they’d give him and makes small talk with the valet left behind while his partner brings Gavin’s car around.

Bright young man, a bit on the shorter side of things with a shaved head (recent change, if the way he keeps running a hand over his head and the momentary look of _oh, right, I did that, didn’t I?_ crosses his face is any indication) and an accent that hints at east coast roots.

Quick with a joke and sharp eyes that has Gavin taking care with what he says. Something about the valet is just so very slightly _off_ in a way Gavin can’t quite pinpoint, but his mind is on other things and the mystery of the odd valet can wait for another time. 

Eventually his partner pulls up with Gavin’s borrowed car and greets him with a smile as he holds the door for Gavin.

Tall and slender, and there's something ever so slightly off with him as well. 

Maybe it’s something to do with the quicksilver speed he talks and whiplash fast changes in direction that serve as verbal bait and switch. Look here, not there, and oh, oh, ever so sorry. Was he talking too fast? He does that sometimes, you see. Old habits and a warm chuckle as he wishes him a good night and to please drive safe, and Gavin is so very, very glad he won’t be running into either of them again anytime soon. 

(Preferably never, really. Safer that way and all in a city like this.)

It occurs to Gavin as he puts the car in gear and pulls away from the curb that he could leave the lunatic here, leave him in that shadowed spot he’s hidden in and go on his way. Hand over the USB drive and complete his job easy as you please, but - 

It’s not fear, that has him doubling back to turn onto the service driveway once he’s out of view of the mansion and anyone there, no. 

Just that damnable curiosity and niggling bit of conscience that wouldn’t let him leave an injured man in the hands of the kind of woman involved in the kind of sordid dealings she is. Things even Gavin hadn’t known about until he got his stick little fingers all over the files he was sent to procure and realized that it didn’t matter so much why the lunatic was there at all as much as getting him away form there did.

(That thought always in the back of his mind that it could be him in that situation in the future, because luck is a key factor in Gavin’s line of work and he knows it will run out on him one day.)

Gavin looks over when the passenger side door opens and the lunatic gingerly eases himself into the seat beside him. 

“Seat belt,” he reminds him, because the drivers in Los Santos are _mental_ , and he’d prefer the poor bastard not gain any new injuries in this stage of their escape. 

He gets a long look for that, and then an amused huff of a laugh as the lunatic clicks it into place.

“Happy now?”

Gavin hums, gaze sliding toward him as he puts the car back into gear and drives them away from the mansion.

“I’d hate for my insurance premiums to go up, you understand.”

The lunatic laughs, and it’s not a completely unpleasant sound.

“Yeah,” he says, relaxing against his seat as Gavin shifts gears. “That would be the worst, wouldn’t it.”

=========

Gavin takes the lunatic to a safe house he knows about that happens to belong to a former employer who won’t need it anymore. The police haven’t yet found it, and it’s paid for six months out still, and Gavin never did get around to returning the key to place before things had gone to shit for the bastard.

No one who matters knows about it, and Gavin has no qualms about giving its location away to keep his own home a secret.

“Nice place,” the lunatic says, taking in the sparse décor and thin layer of dust on everything. “You like the minimalist look?”

The lunatic claims that he looks worse off than he actually is and all he needs to sort himself out is a shower and change of clothes, but Gavin's concern over his welfare is truly touching.

Gavin grabs a change of clothes from the bedroom and shoves them at the man, who seems to have settled on being annoyingly amused at Gavin.

“There should be clean towels in the bathroom,” he says, and ignores the quiet chuckle it earns him as he head back to the living room.

Gavin keeps an ear out, and waits until he hears the water running before he allows himself the luxury of relaxing, accepting that he was successful tonight and they’re as safe as they’re likely to be in Los Santos.

A quick phone call to his employer and he has a date and time set up to hand the USB drive over and the promise of money being deposited into one of his accounts upon receipt.

He’s not quite sure he trusts his employers, but they’re not the sort of people he can afford to refuse. Powerful enough to provide him with the information he’d needed to be successful tonight, and connections everywhere. 

Enough of a presence in Los Santos to have Gavin’s contacts warn him to be careful if he chose to work with them, that things happened to people who told them no, who crossed them or got a little too ambitious while working for them.

The lunatic’s still in the shower, and Gavin has no clue what he’s meant to do next, really, but he does have petty cash his employers allotted him for this job. A couple hundred dollars and more than enough to get the lunatic wherever he needs to go after this.

Pay for a cab to get him home or wherever else he needs to go and a little extra and it’s an odd choice on Gavin’s part but then again, this whole night has been odd. Better to leave things on a positive note and avoid making an enemy he’d rather not have.

It’s easy, really, sneaking out while he’s still in the shower. Place the money under a paperweight on the kitchen counter and out the door and it’s late enough that no one notices when he leaves, no good reason to be there any longer, after all.

========

Several days later and Gavin has regrets.

So, so many because he’s an idiot and should have listened when Alfredo told him he was making a mistake taking this job. That perhaps the stakes were higher than he thought and now - 

“You know too much,” his employer – former employer? - is saying, and it sounds like he regrets that things have come to this, but the man is a talented actor.

Fooled Gavin into thinking he was someone who might not turn out to be a back-stabbing bastard, might be someone who didn't indulge in petty games.

“I’d rather we not do this, if it’s all the same to you,” Gavin interrupts, in no mood to deal with the man’s ego and sense of drama. Would rather get things over with than listen to all the reasons why Gavin’s death is inevitable and on and on and on. “I find this all boring.”

Cliche, really. 

Like something out of a bad Vinewood thriller and it’s honestly insulting.

“What?”

Gavin doesn’t sigh, no, because his former employer is circling the chair Gavin’s tied to like a terrible villain in a spy movie gloating about his victory.

Single chair under a spotlight in an abandoned warehouse and Gavin always did have a bad feeling about the meeting place. Thought it was the kind of place where things like this happened, and he should have listened to his instincts. Should have done something different to keep from ending up here, but he didn’t, did he.

Gavin’s former employer’s head comes up as the sound of breaking glass reaches them from somewhere beyond the circle of light they’re under.

“Check it out,” he barks, and the goon who’d accompanied him grunts in acknowledgment before presumably heading off to do as he’d been ordered.

“It’s probably just a stray,” Gavin’s former employer says, more like he’s trying to convince himself it’s true than any real belief. “Little fuckers get in here all the time.”

Gavin watches the man as he paces, nervous under everything. All too aware he’s playing a dangerous game having gotten his hands on the kind of files he has, going after the kind of people he is no matter how powerful his own operations are.

He babbles, tells Gavin how stupid he was for falling for his little ploy. For ever thinking he could hope to pull off this kind of job and expect to be dealt with fairly afterward. That things like that happened in Los Santos.

Gavin listens with half an ear, knows the basic themes by heart because he’s not wrong about any of it because Los Santos is a rotten bitch of a city. Home to back-stabbing bastards like this one, the dirty and desperate and depraved.

Footsteps headed back their way, steady and confident and Gavin sits up a little straighter. Cocks his head because - 

He notices details, Gavin does. 

The gait is all wrong. No nearly undetectable limp, slight hesitation before the second foot lands. No faint jingle of the keys clipped the goons belt. Heavy key-ring weighed down by keys of all shapes and sizes and a lucky rabbit’s foot that’s been dyed blood red.

Gavin’s former employer doesn’t seem to notice, turning to speak to him and stiffens as he realizes that's not his goon at all.

It’s a tall figure in a leather jacket, ominous black skull mask and _known_ in Los Santos. 

Feared, and for good reason, given his reputation. The stories and rumors left behind in his wake wherever he goes.

“You - “

A gunshot rings out, and Gavin’s former employer drops like a puppet with its strings cut, bloody hole in his head and _oh_ , Gavin thinks, _oh_.

“This seems familiar,” the Vagabond says, amusement in his voice as he steps further into the light and looks at Gavin. 

Gavin stares up at him, laughter caught in his throat because - 

“ _You_ ,” he says, and the laughter breaks free because of course the lunatic is the Vagabond is the lunatic, _of course_.

The Vagabond laughs, and the amusement's still there as he goes to cut Gavin free from the ropes binding him. 

Gavin rubs his wrists, sore and aching, skin reddened where the ropes dug in, as he eyes the Vagabond.

“Now what?” he asks, and as grateful as he is for the Vagabond's intervention, he’s understandably wary. “Not that I’m not grateful, but you understand, I hope.”

The Vagabond cocks his head, as though he isn’t quite sure what to make of Gavin.

“My boss,” he says, slow, halting. “He’s interested in those files you stole.”

Gavin’s eyes narrow.

The USB drive is still clutched in the hand of Gavin’s former employer, but there’s a little surprise packed in with the files that will wipe it clean if anyone enters the wrong password one time too many.

Gavin’s an idiot, it’s true, but he’s not completely stupid.

“Is he now,” he says, wondering if all that’s happened here is Gavin going from one bad situation to another and no choice in the matter. 

The Vagabond sighs, reaching up to pull the mask off. _Looks_ at Gavin, and his face is a motley array of bruises and scattered cuts. 

“He sent me to get them,” he says, “but I fucked up.”

Gavin never expected to hear an admission of failure from the Vagabond, although to be fair he never expected to be in the man’s presence either, so - 

“You ruined their rescue mission, by the way,” he says, and there’s a rueful twist to his mouth as he looks at Gavin. “They put a lot of work and resources into the whole thing. Touching, honestly.”

Gavin doesn’t know what to say to that, so he keeps his silence. Watches the Vagabond watching him and wonders how his life has come to this, what series of events have lead him to this place and time.

“You met some of them, I think.” The Vagabond says, and oh, the bastard is enjoying this. “Lindsay says you’re an amazing dancer – light on your feet, I believe she said – and Jack apologizes for ruining your shirt.”

He goes on to name other people Gavin had interacted with that night, the waitstaff with the mop of curls who’d pointed the way to the bathroom on the upper floor and the _valets_.

They’d been the ones to recognize him when he arrived at the gala, Gavin having made something of a name for himself in Los Santos. Tipped the others off, let them know to keep an eye on him and when they realized he’d freed the Vagabond let things play out to see what he would do. 

“Should I have left you there, then?” Gavin asks, feeling exhausted because apparently there was no need for his act of kindness that night, no reason for it at all. 

He feels a fool, and it grates.

Still, he needs to move carefully here, doesn’t he.

The Vagabond moves closer, and Gavin is so, so aware of the disadvantage he's at here. The way the Vagabond looms without meaning to.

“That’s the thing. You had no reason to help me, but you did anyway. Risked the job you were hired for to do it,” he says, and pauses. “You didn't fuck me over even when you had the perfect opportunity.”

 _Why_ , Gavin knows, but there’s no easy answer here.

Not really.

“Yes, well,” Gavin says, and shrugs. “I’ve been told I’m something of an idiot.”

By Alfredo, mostly, but Dan’s said the same in the past. And Meg, bless her soul, she lives in the eternal hope she can break him of the habit one day despite the fact so many others have tried. 

Good friends to have in this business, this life, but some things can’t be undone.

“That’s it?” the Vagabond asks, and the man sounds confused. Like he thinks Gavin’s hiding something from him, that there has to be some deeper reason Gavin had helped him that night. “Really?”

Gavin smiles up at him.

“Were you expecting a different answer?” Gavin asks, honestly curious.

The Vagabond regards him silently for a long moment, and Gavin looks his fill because he’s still human and the man is not unattractive. Not the worst sight he expected to see before he died, because surely that’s what this is.

Try the soft approach and when that doesn’t work, well, Los Santos is full of people like Gavin, isn’t it. Thieves and hackers and give them enough money and they’ll steal just about anything for you.

Wouldn’t be long before they found someone willing to make a second attempt at stealing the files. Until someone succeeded.

“No,” the Vagabond says, and he laughs as he puts the mask back on.

Gavin swallows, wonders - 

“Catch.”

Gavin blinks, hand coming up to catch the phone the Vagabond throws to him. An archaic flip phone, shiny and new.

“We could use someone with your skills. If you’re interested, use speed dial one. If not, do whatever you want with the damn thing.”

Gavin doubts it’s as easy as that, not after telling him his boss wants the files Gavin had stolen, but he leaves the USB drive where it is as he turns to leave - _pauses_.

“Thank you,” the Vagabond says, and clears his throat as he looks away. “I appreciate what you did.”

Gavin bites back a laugh, eyes going to his would-be murderer's body and back to the Vagabond who looks oddly hesitant. Uncertain.

“I’d say that makes us even, wouldn’t you?” he asks, and maybe things like that shouldn’t work like that, keeping score of that kind of thing, but it’s something to build on. 

The Vagabond laughs and inclines his head in acknowledgment, and then he's gone, leaving Gavin alone with his thoughts and a choice to be made.

Curiosity is a failing of his, and when he opens the phone his eyes are immediately drawn to the background wallpaper someone’s selected. The all too familiar logo of the Fake AH Crew. Silhouette of a green rubber duck in the cross-hairs, and he’s heard promising things about them here and there over the years. 

From Alfredo more and more recently, since they’d started courting him, interested in someone of his unique skills and know how, and thinks that things certainly couldn't be any worse for him than they already are, really, if he were to work for them. (Ignores the thought that there would be an added bonus in getting to see the Vagabond again, because that’s hardly professional of him, but it is a very nice incentive to think about.)

Later, though, because he needs to get out of here before someone comes along to investigate the goings on here. When he’s somewhere safe he can stop to think about the offer the Vagabond made him. Think over the pros and cons and make a choice based on them and hope he isn't wrong when he does.


End file.
